


i shall tell them i remember you

by LieutenantSaavik



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Softness, accurate depictions of riverside iowa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantSaavik/pseuds/LieutenantSaavik
Summary: “I do not wish to drift from you.” Spock steps closer to Jim and places a hand over his wrist. “There are memories I bear but do not understand. I think, being with you… it helps me.”Spock confronts his memory loss in a jazz bar in Riverside, Iowa.





	i shall tell them i remember you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [femspirk (daisyridley)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyridley/gifts).



> This is for Jem, a wonderful friend who has inspired me and uplifted me across both time zones and oceans. Happy Birthday!

The music is thick but quiet, edging the room in the golden comfort only smooth jazz can produce. It’s present but unobtrusive, and the quiet chatter of the many patrons around them overlay the melodies, filling the room with liminal energy -- it’s both anywhere and nowhere in the galaxy. 

“Spock,” says Jim, resting a hand on his arm. “Are you feeling better?”

“Fine, Captain.”

“ _ Jim _ , Spock. We’re at a bar, for god’s sake.”

“Jim.” His voice sounds lost, and he pauses for a full minute before speaking further. “Have we been here before?”

“No,” says Jim cautiously. “Never, Spock.”

Spock seems disquieted by the information, his eyebrow shifting slightly. He makes no comment, but turns to look at the three musicians in the corner. “What is this song called?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Jim replies.

“Did I know it?”

“I don’t think so-” Jim starts.

“Yes,” says Bones suddenly, interrupting. “It sounded familiar to me, too. I finally placed it.”

“Oh?” Jim asks, curious.

“I visited a bar. We visited a bar. Your  _ katra _ , Spock.” He presses his lips together. “This is the song that was playing. I was trying to charter a flight to Genesis to save your sorry ass.”

“Dr. McCoy, my ‘ass’ is not sorry, nor is it-”

“Please, gentlemen,” cuts in Jim, waving his hand slightly, “I came here to drink in peace, not listen to your bickering.” He rubs his hand across the bridge of his nose. “I thought Spock needed a relaxing environment to remember the world a bit, but clearly he’s nearly back to normal if he’s gotten into a spat with you after only five minutes.”

“Seven minutes and fifty-six seconds, Captain. Your estimate was imprecise. And I would hardly call two lines of exchanged dialogue a ‘spat.’”

“Spock, please.”

“Please what?”

“Spock, do you  _ remember _ ?”

“Remember what, Captain? Please clarify.”

“Do you remember me?” Jim asks, staring piercingly into his eyes. 

Spock meets his gaze evenly. “Of course. Your name is James Tiberius Kirk; you are a recently demoted Starfleet Captain, in command -- for the time being -- of the Starship  _ Enterprise- _ A. I -- I am your friend. I do not remember all of our missions, or all the planets we visited, or all the people we tried to help. But I was your friend; I remember that keenly.”

Jim looks down at the table, then back up to Spock. “Do you remember dying, Spock?”

Spock’s hand flexes on the table; his middle two fingers separate for a moment into the ta’al. “I have tried to piece together the surrounding events, but I do not wish to speak of them. After I created the bridge with Dr. McCoy’s mind, I remember nothing. My father showed me brief and unclear segments of the events.”

“I shared with Sarek what he shared with you. Spock, you said something on Vulcan, you said-”

“I have been and ever shall be your friend.” Spock completes Jim’s sentence quietly. “I died.” He turns again to Jim. “I died for you and your crew. I sometimes wonder why.”

_ Because you loved me _ , Jim wants to say, but that’s foolish.

“Was the sacrifice logical?” Spock asks.

Jim almost laughs. “Yes, Spock,” he says, leaning across the table towards him. “Very  _ logical _ . Very, very logical. And you’ll be pleased to know that-”

“Jim,” says Bones, breaking in, pulling Jim back with a hand on his shoulder. “Jim, please. He doesn’t remember. He’s still coming back to himself. This  _ katra _ thing; it hasn’t been done in  _ year _ s, those Vulcans said. He’s got a whole lifetime to remember, and it’s only been a handful of months. He’s probably still-”

“I know who I am, Dr. McCoy,” Spock contradicts. 

“No, you don’t,” he snaps back. “Not if you don’t remember everything Jim did for you. Not if you don’t remember how you were around each other, how you looked. Until you fully remember him, you won’t be yourself, Spock.”

“Illogical statement, Doctor. It seems to me-”

“Spock, listen to me,” says Bones, his voice quiet and forceful, “You -- you and Jim-”

“Stop,” says Jim. He puts his hand up, palm out. “Just stop. I’m going outside.”

He stands and leaves the table, turning and striding quickly through the bar. He pushes through the glass doors into Riverside’s drifting, deserted night, trying to slow his breathing. He steps out onto the sidewalk, turning his face up to look at the sky. He sees Regulus and Alphard, polite glimmers in the air. He turns his head; there’s Jupiter, lower on the horizon. All the stars are glowing faintly, as if to say as if to say ‘we’re here, as we’ve always been; hello.’ Starships are nothing to stars;  _ he _ is nothing to stars, and yet with his crew he’s been among them, lightyears and lightyears from Earth. And now he’s home, in Riverside, less than a mile from the house he grew up in -- and he realises, the sensation jarring, that he doesn’t want to be here. Everything he misses -- his house, his parents, his brother -- are precisely what he can’t avoid being reminded of. _ Locked in time, passed-on, further off than any distance. _ Past the wooden buildings, cornfields stretch on as far as he can see, curving over and across hills, blurring when they meet the sky.

_ I remember you _ , a bar singer starts to croon, her voice filtering through the walls.

_ You're the one who made my dreams _

_ Come true  _

_ A few kisses ago... _

The music continues floats into the night from behind the double-doors. Jim looks at the ground, sees a small leaf curled up and dead by the toe of his shoe. Shore Leave was intended to be fun, a break, some relaxing chatter with friends, but Spock’s memory is still gapped -- and it shouldn’t be so surprising.

Moments pass. He listens to the cicadas, the faint jazz behind him. The song meanders; more words come to his mind.

_ I remember you _

_ You're the one who said _

_ ‘I love you, too’ _

_ I do. Didn't you know? _

 

The door opens behind him. Jim turns to see Spock emerge out into the evening. He stands awkwardly, the light framing him from behind, and comes over to stand obtrusively nearby. 

“What is it, Spock?” Jim sighs.

“Jim,” Spock says quietly, “I request… I would like your aid.”

“Of course,” says Jim automatically. Words drift to the forefront of his memory. “Let me help.”

If Spock recognises the sentence, he gives no indication. He tilts his head to the side for a moment, and Jim can tell by the expression on his face that he is carefully choosing his words. “I do not feel connected fully to the world,” he begins slowly. “I somehow feel left by it. I know that the changes that took place in the months Dr. McCoy carried my  _ katra _ are insignificant relative to the entire duration of my lifespan, yet I feel… lost.”

Jim stiffens. The echo of his own thoughts is uncanny, and for a moment, he wonders if it’s a sign of their bond returning. But no; no.  _ It must be something else. _ “I feel the same way,” he confesses slowly. “This is Riverside, where I grew up. It’s not… it’s not much. But it’s home, or I thought it would be. And it’s different. It’s been too long since I’ve been back for it to feel familiar.”  _ The lights are brighter; it’s cleaner, more populous. There are three office buildings named after me. The apple orchard is smaller, and houses ring it on all sides. _

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Spock says softly.

“It’s alright, Spock. Things change.” He looks at him critically for a moment, trying to read his face. “People… drift.”

“I do not wish to drift from you.” Spock steps closer to Jim and places a hand over his wrist. “There are memories I bear but do not understand. I think, being with you… it helps me.”

Jim smiles tightly. “I’m glad.”

“Please, tell me honestly,” Spock tries, removing his hand. “Were we…” 

Jim looks up at him closely, forcing his heart back down in his chest. 

“There is a word I associate with you.  _ T’hy’la _ . I wonder if I told you.”

“You did,” says Jim, and he practically chokes on his words. “You did.”

“If all three meanings did not apply in some measure, I would not have referred to you as such. You have indeed been my friend, my lover, have you not?”

“I have,” says Jim, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I loved you more than anything else in the world, Spock. You kept me sane, you -- you were always what I needed you to be.”

“And you to me,” Spock tells him quietly, a small smile on the edges of his lips. “I love you,” he says simply.

Jim breaks into a grin. “I thought I might never hear you say that again.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “I-”

“Don’t talk,” Jim says, bridging the distance between them and clasping his hand. “I -- I want to try something.”

 

Their minds slide together in the temperate summer night, flowing from fingers to palm, and Jim laughs out loud at how strange and wonderfully familiar it feels, having Spock next to him and around him, sharing what they feel again.

_ IsthisworkingisthisworkingholyshitSpockholy _ **_shit_ ** _!! _

Jim laughs, pulling away for a moment, processing Spock’s heightened senses. He immediately reaches for Spock’s hand again, much to Spock’s amusement.  _ Jim, your reaction is most surprising. _

_ Spock, come on; when am I  _ **_not_ ** _ surprising? _

He hears Spock’s laughter ring inside in his head, and it’s the best he’s felt in years.

“How long has it been,” Spock murmurs, voice low, as he removes his hand from Jim’s. “Since I have felt your mind in such a manner?”

“Too long,” Jim replies, and he wants to press his lips to Spock’s so badly he’s sure Spock can sense it coming off him in waves. 

Perhaps he can, because he takes Jim’s hand gently, an unconventional Vulcan kiss, giving him a fond smile that makes Jim’s heart silly. “Perhaps you could show me your hometown?” he asks.

“I’d be happy to,” Jim proclaims, and he doesn’t mention how Spock is holding his hand, sending him soft kisses with every shift of their palms. They walk together into the evening, streetlights lighting their path.

“I imagine Dr. McCoy will be paying for the meal,” Spock remarks.

Jim turns back sharply, then laughs. “Oh, he’s gonna kill me. I’ll make it up to him with a trip to Yosemite, I guess.”

“I have never been.”

“Hm.” Jim makes no more comments on the subject, clasping Spock’s hand tighter and entwining their fingers. “There’s the church I used to go to, up until I was about fourteen,” he observes, indicating a white clapboard building with a very small steeple.

“Fascinating.”

“There’s my favorite apple orchard.”

“Apples,” Spock says. “As I recall, there was a time when… a planet. You seemed to enjoy the apple very much.”

“Ah, yes, the time I persuaded you to describe sex to young Yeoman Landon.”  _ Is Spock blushing? _

“The necessary instructions,” Spock replies, his voice masterfully steady. “I know I never-”

“People show affection in many different ways.” Jim separates their entwined fingers and holds up his right palm. Slowly, Spock lifts his, and they press their hands together. “This is my favorite way.”

Behind them, the wind changes, carrying the music of the bar to them. Faint words spin in the air.

_ And I remember, too, a distant bell _

_ And stars that fell _

_ Like rain _

_ Out of the blue... _

Spock closes his eyes. “If I remain with you, Starfleet will-”

“Ask questions regardless of whether or not we continue our relationship. Fraternisation policies are-”

“Still in operation.”

“Yes.” Jim pauses. “What will you tell them?”

Spock tilts his head, listening. 

_ When my life is through _

_ And the angels ask me to recall _

_ The thrill of them all _

_ Then I shall tell them... _

Spock smiles at the soft golden notes. “I shall tell them I remember you.”

**Author's Note:**

> In _The Search for Spock_ , while McCoy is in the bar looking to charter a flight to Genesis, [this composition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlEMN_Ck2Jk) by James Horner is playing. The piece is an amalgamation of three jazz songs, two of which are love songs, and one is [I Remember You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7LHDEcNc_E).
> 
> I recommend listening to that James Horner piece while taking a shower. I suggested the same to Jem, and after they did so, they sent me some ideas for a k/s fic, most of which I adapted here.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please comment! <3


End file.
